


Ever Present, Invisible

by Aurum262



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:05:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum262/pseuds/Aurum262
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So we're clear, my head-canon for Orana is pretty far from what actually happens in the game so, yeah, you're warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Black, hooded figures surrounded her, long knives poised above her chest. Ropes bound her arms behind her. A glint off a descending blade, a burst of pain. Orana awoke, screaming.

It took her a long moment to realize that the ropes binding her were, in fact, blankets. She had never had blankets, having grown up a slave in the hot and humid island of Seheron. With great difficulty, she extricated herself from the entangling fabric. She screamed again and fell out of her bed as the door to her room banged open and her new mistress stormed in, a dagger in either hand.

"Orana!" she yelled "Are you all right? I heard screaming."

"I... I'm sorry, mistress. I... I had a bad dream. I didn't mean to disturb you. Please, don't be angry."

She breathed a sigh of relief as the fire died in her mistress' azure eyes. She laid the daggers down and crossed to Orana. The elf-maid winced in anticipation of a blow as her mistress extended a hand towards her. Instead, the hand rested gently on her shoulder, it worked it's way down the arm to her hand. Orana averted her eyes as her mistress pulled her gently but insistently to her feet.

Her mistress crossed to the dresser where a silk dressing gown had been laid.

"I meant to wash it, mistress, but you said I would start my work tomorrow."

Her mistress gave her a strange look. It was like a half-smile with one eyebrow raised.

"One," she said "stop calling me that. Two, you'll start your chores when you're good and ready. Those thugs didn't spare you your share of bruises and I don't want you hurting yourself by thinking you need to start working as soon as you know up from down. Three, I didn't give you this to clean. I gave it to you to wear."

Orana's brain couldn't even begin to process what she had been told so, before she could think twice, she violated the first rule of surviving slavery, she contradicted her mistress.

"I'm sorry, mistress, but I can't wear that. It's silk. Slaves don't wear silk."

Orana winced again as she realized the magnitude of her mistake. She didn't look up until she heard her mistress laughing. It wasn't the harsh cackle her old mistress had used when she saw Orana in the make-up she had been ordered to wear whenever her work took her out of the slaves quarters; nor was it the raspy chuckle her Papa had used when he told her stories of Arlathan, Andraste, Shartan, and the Dalish. It was a high, clear sound which, for reasons she couldn't place, assured her she was safe.

"I suppose it's a good thing you're not a slave, then." her mistress said. "Now put that on and come with me to the kitchen."

Orana hesitantly pulled on the robe and followed, knowing better than to disobey a direct order.

Orana sat on a stool her mistress indicated as she began bustling around the room, filling a kettle with cream and setting it to boil before mixing it with a dark, brown powder, sugar, and vanilla. She pored the mixture into two clay mugs and sat across from Orana, setting one mug down in front of each of them.

"Careful. It's hot." she said.

Orana stared into the sweet-smelling contents of the mug.

"It's called cocoa." her mistress said. "It's from Seheron."

Evelyn Hawke had purchased the cocoa powder from a herbalist who swore it could cure everything from gout to the common cold. Evelyn, having trained extensively as a healer and herbalist wherever and however she could, had serious reason to doubt the claim. However, she couldn't deny that the drink which could be brewed from the powder was delicious. She drank deeply from the cup.

"Mind you don't burn your tongue, but it is much better when it's hot." she said, noting that Orana hadn't drunk.

The elf slowly, mechanically raised the cup to her lips and drank.

"Did you dream about Hadrianna?" her mistress asked.

Orana nodded, slowly. She knew that her new mistress held no love for her old one, so she deemed this a safe time to tell the truth.

"Orana, listen to me. Hadrianna can't hurt you anymore. She can't hurt anyone anymore... and I won't let anyone else hurt you, either. When I took you into my house, I took you under my protection. I will keep you safe. You don't need to worry. Now, finish up your cocoa and lets get you back to bed."

Orana continued to drink as her new mistress told her stories of her life. Orana suspected that they were embellished, especially the story about her finding a pile of gold as large as a horse and guarded by demons made of stone in the deep roads as little as a few months ago. Still, she enjoyed them and, by the time they returned to their respective bed chambers, she felt certain that her new mistress had driven her old mistress from her mind, if not for good, at least for tonight.


	2. The Pictures

Orana was cleaning her mistress' library the next week when she noticed a book her mistress had been reading. It was leather-bound with gold-leaf patterns on the cover. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the door was closed and opened the book. There were beautiful charcoal pictures inside. A man giant monster glaring at a brightly lit building at night, a man in leather and steel armor at the prow of a boat lined with shields and with a dragon's head for a prow, the man locked in combat with the monster.

"That's one of my favorites. " a voice from behind her said.

Orana whirled around, slamming the book shut.

"Mistress. I'm sorry, I was just cleaning and..."

"And looking at my book, no doubt. Can you read?" her mistress asked.

"I... no, mistress. Of course not.

"Dammit, Orana. Stop calling me that. You're making me feel old." she moved to the table where the book lay. "This was a gift from a Chasind storyteller who I found injured while I was hunting in the Wilds to the south of my old home. I managed to dress his wound and get him back to his clan, he gave me that in return. _Beowulf_ , it's called. My brother..." she trailed off.

Orana had overheard something about her mistress' brother. She didn't know the details but she knew that he had been killed by an ogre. Not wanting to salt the wound, she changed the subject. "Stop calling you what, mistress?" she asked

"Mistress, that's what."

"Then, what shall I call you?" Orana asked, confused.

"Evelyn. That is my name, after all."

"Evelyn?" Orana hesitatingly said.

"Yes. Now, about this book, or rather, books in general. Would you like to learn to read?"

Orana was dumbstruck. All she could do was stammer out "why?"

"Because you're my servant and you'll be a more useful servant if you can read. Mother has little enough to do, if I put her to work teaching you, maybe she'll stop pestering me about finding a husband." Evelyn said, rolling her eyes.

"I... I don't know what to say, mistre... Evelyn."

"Good, that's settled, then. You'll start as soon as mother can begin."

* * * *

Orana's lessons ended up including, not just reading, but mathematics, natural philosophy, history, theology, and politics. Evelyn taught her whenever she could but, often, Evelyn's mother, Leandra taught her instead. To her surprise, she found that none of her lessons gave her too much trouble. She had always been called stupid or foolish. Evelyn and Leandra, however, regularly exclaimed about how brilliant she was and how quickly she was learning. After a week of lessons, Evelyn's... not friend, exactly, her companion, Fenris, joined them for their reading lessons. That was shortly after Evelyn and the dark-skinned human, Isabela started spending most of their evenings together.

In addition to the lessons, Orana also began rising early with her mistress to exercise. Orana spent a lot of time in the exercise room, the gym, as her mistress called it. It was where her mistress kept most of her weapons and armor. Evelyn cared for her own favorite gear, her bow which was almost as tall as Orana herself, her needle sharp daggers, and her leather and chain-mail armor; but Orana was tasked with maintaining the rest of the arms and armor which Evelyn had purchased with the estate.

In the early mornings, when the rest of the house was still in bed, Evelyn rose and exercised. Orana, who didn't need or want to sleep from dusk 'till dawn, took to joining her. She and Evelyn would use the equipment which Evelyn said she had made herself, punch and kick a large canvas bag filled with sand or a dummy made out of wood, climb ropes which went nowhere, and would occasionally take to the streets of Hightown and run until Orana wanted to collapse. While Orana rested and prepared breakfast, Evelyn would take her bow and shoot at distant targets in the enclosed courtyard or attack dummies with her knives until she finally wore herself out.

One day, instead of dismissing her to the kitchen, Evelyn insisted that she come back to the gym. Orana had no idea what to expect until Evelyn crossed to one of the weapon racks and drew a short sword. She offered it to Orana.

"You're going to learn to defend yourself." Evelyn said.

Any slave with anything like a weapon would be killed but the same could be said of any slave learning to read so she took the sword. Evelyn proceeded to show her drills with the weapon until her already tired arms were leaden.

"Tomorrow, we're going to spar. Prepare yourself." she said. Now, let's go see about breakfast.


	3. All That Remains

As the years passed, Orana's lessons and training continued. She learned how to use a light infantry saber along with a three-pronged parrying dagger Evelyn. In addition, Evelyn had taken to teaching her less, strictly speaking, legal skills. One day, Evelyn had caught her listening at a door. It was a habit from her days as a slave under Hadrianna who was known to reward slaves who brought her useful information about people who stayed with her. Instead of being angry, Evelyn listened to the account of Hadrianna's rewards and smiled her grin which suggested that mischief was in the air. Whenever she could get Leandra out of the house, Evelyn taught her how to pick locks, how to pick pockets, how to lie convincingly, how to avoid being seen or noticed, and how to make poisons and grenades, in addition to the healing potions she had been learning about.

One day, she was cleaning Evelyn's study when Evelyn came in and requested that she leave.

"I want to discuss something with my mother... in private. The books will still be ready to be dusted in a few moments."

When she withdrew, she walked away from the door, then, quietly, returned to the keyhole.

"What do you think of her?" Evelyn was asking Leandra

"Orana? What can I say, she's intelligent; hard-working; now she's stopped wearing that awful makeup, she's quite beautiful; she deserves better than what life's given her but she never complains. She's a good girl. Everything I wish I could say about my daughter." Leandra said with a mirror of her daughter's smirk. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, lay off, mother. Bethany's not so bad. As for why, give me just a moment."

Evelyn drew a sheaf of paper from her desk along with a stone or metal ingot, Orana couldn't tell.

She continued pacing around the room and, when she passed the door, she pressed the metal against the keyhole. The minor lightning enchantment on the ingot didn't injure Orana, but it did sting enough to draw a surprised yelp from her.

"I taught you everything you know; that doesn't mean I taught you everything _I_ know. Nice try, though. Run along." Evelyn said to the still-closed door.

"Evelyn, why do you have these?" Orana heard Leandra say just before she gave Evelyn the privacy she had requested.

* * * *

"How did you know?" Orana asked Evelyn when she emerged from her study a few minutes later, looking immensely pleased with herself.

"I always keep a light lit outside the door to my study but the keyhole was dark. It's okay, most people aren't as paranoid as I am."

"And, what do I do if they are?" Orana asked.

"I'll show you... soon." she said, giving Leandra a significant look which meant "as soon as I can get rid of her for a few minutes".

After their conversation, Evelyn left to save kittens from trees or whatever it was she did with her friends, sometime later, Leandra left for her weekly meeting with Evelyn's Uncle Gamlen. The dwarves who resided in the manor came and went; someone dropped off a bundle of letters and a vase of flowers, probably one of Evelyn's admirers; and, when she was sure she wasn't being observed, she snuck into Evelyn's study to try to find the papers she had been discussing with her mother. This had become something of a game between them, Evelyn would plant some secret and Orana would need to use the skills Evelyn had taught her to uncover them. She picked the lock on the desk drawer which she had seen Evelyn take the papers from. As soon as she heard the lock click, she dropped the picks. Her caution was rewarded as a spark jumped between the picks. She cautiously ran the point of her dagger along the edges of the drawer, checking for other traps, and, finding none, opened the drawer. The second the drawer was open enough to put a hand into, she ran a hand across the inner surface of the drawer, she felt the enchanted ingot resting against the locking mechinism but no other triggers. As she pulled the drawer fully open, she noticed a strand of red gossamer in the middle of a cobweb. As the strand broke, she jerked the drawer fully open. She had just enough time to read the words "nice try, Orana" before the paper burned to ashes. As soon at the flames reached a certain height, a frost rune triggered and suppressed the flame.

"Damn it." Orana thought. "What next? I need to think."

She was idly plucking at her lute when Evelyn's uncle came bursting in and began shouting at Bodahn. Before she could reach the main hall where the shouting was taking place, Evelyn entered followed by Isabella and Merril.

Evelyn calmed her Uncle enough to learn that her mother hadn't arrived at their meting. Bodahn mentioned the flowers that had arrived earlier. As soon as he mentioned white lilies, Evelyn's face turned from alabaster pale to chalky white. Without prelude, she whistled for her dog, grabbed her bow and ran for Lowtown, followed by Gamlen, Isabella and Merril.

* * * *

It was hours until she returned. When she did, she had the staggering gait and ripe smell of someone who had been drinking heavily. Gamlen followed shortly after in a similar state. They traded muted words next to the fire in the library. Orana didn't know what had happened but she also knew that she didn't entirely want to. 

She learned all she needed to when Evelyn brought her to the Chantry the next day where she saw Leandra's body laid out on a pyre. They were soon joined by Evelyn's sister, Bethany whom Orana had heard of but never met. Had her face not been tearstained and her eyes bloodshot, she would have been quite beautiful. She resembled Evelyn strongly except that where Evelyn was hard, Bethany was soft; where Evelyn had sharply defined angles, Bethany had smooth curves; and where Evelyn wore her hair in a utilitarian, short crop, Bethany's hair flowed down to her shoulders in long waves. Orana was confused by how Bethany shot Evelyn a murderous look every few seconds. Every time Evelyn spotted one of the looks she shuddered as if she had been kicked in the ribs. The Revered Mother shared a few brief words with Evelyn and then opened the Chantry doors to the mourners.

Orana barely registered the memorial service, nor did she take note of the brief reception at the Hawke Estate afterwards. That evening, after Evelyn's closest friends had come and gone, Orana timidly entered her room.

"Evelyn? May I come in?" Orana asked, timidly.

Evelyn looked up. Her face was puffy and streaked with tears. She looked... broken. 

"Yes," she said, making a valiant but vain attempt to gather herself "yes, come in.

"Evelyn, what... what happened?" she asked.

Evelyn regarded her hands for a long moment. Without looking up she began to speak. By the time she was done, Orana was nearly in tears as well. She had met many kind mages like the healer, Anders, whose magic could repair illnesses and injuries which were beyond even Evelyn's formidable alchemical skill; or the bright-eyed elf, Merril who often kept her company when Evelyn and Leandra were both away; and she had heard much about Bethany and Malcolm Hawke, though she had never spoken with either of them; and, of course, she had heard tales about the elf-mage who had defeated the archdemon which had driven Evelyn to Kirkwall in the first place and who had become the first Grey Warden in history who hadn't succumbed to her injuries and died after ending a Blight. However, it seemed that for every kind and helpful mage, there was one who was prepared to kill, injure, and enslave others for their own twisted ends. Evelyn spoke long, often, and eloquently about the injustice inflicted on mages and their families and Orana agreed with her. But, if ever there was a story to make someone wish to lock all mages away and throw away the key, it was the one Evelyn was telling now.

When she finished, Orana wrapped her arms around Evelyn's neck and Evelyn wrapped a wiry, strong arm around Orana's waist. Neither of them spoke, they just sat, taking comfort from each others embraces. When they finally broke contact, Evelyn's eyes were dry and Orana had been crying.

"Come now, none of that." Evelyn said, wiping away the tears "I've only just got myself put back together, I can't have you falling apart now."

They sat for a while longer enjoying the comfort of each others presence until, long after midnight, Orana retired to her room.


	4. Dangers of Life

Over the next few weeks, the pace of Orana's training increased exponentially. When she went to bed at night, she was more sore than she had been since the earliest days of her training. However, after every bout of vigorous exercise, Evelyn seemed happier than she had been since her mother had passed. During one of their natural philosophy lessons when they were dissecting a pig to learn anatomy and physiology, Evelyn told her about how mages from Orlais had discovered that exercise releases humors in the brain which put people in good moods. Orana now had the evidence supporting the claim in front of her face.

She didn't complain, but she did ask why the training had gotten harder. Evelyn replied "my mother once told me that some problems can't be solved with violence. Undoubtedly that is true. However, for the other problems, one must be prepared. You know how to use a sword, I'm not convinced you know how to fight. Soon, I'll be taking you along with me when I go out. You'll fight for your life, or you won't and you'll feel the consequences. I'm not losing someone else I love because I never made sure they could take care of themselves."

Orana was stunned. Love. She was loved. Evelyn noticed the look of shock on her face.

"Yes, you heard right. Orana, I want you to come with me." Evelyn said.

She lead the way to the lockbox in her room. She inserted the key and disarmed the two traps on the box. She pulled out the papers Orana had seen what seemed like a lifetime ago. She regarded the documents. They were both legal forms. One was her will and testament, the other was a certificate of adoption. When she saw the name of the person to be adopted, she dropped the papers from her nerveless fingers and stared, slack-jawed at Evelyn.

"You...me..." she stammered.

"Yes." Evelyn said, embracing the elf.

"It's probably best if we don't tell anyone." Evelyn continued "there are people who might try to get to me through you. It's probably best if, to the world at large, you're my faithful servant and nothing more. But, still. We'll know. But, they still need your signature."

She bent and retrieved the papers, placing them on the desk. Orana collected a quill, dipped it in an inkwell and signed the certificate with a flourish.

* * * *

In the following months, Orana began to see signs of trouble in Kirkwall. Several times guards hassled her on the way to or from the market over the dagger she wore. In the market, she heard uneasy whispers about the Qunari. Most unsettlingly, Evelyn began staying out later, leaving earlier, and tending to her own injuries more often. Normally, she let Orana practice her medicinal skills whenever she was injured but, Orana had quickly learned, she insisted on tending to her own injuries only when they were quite severe.

One night, her adopted mother returned home to be greeted by Isabella and Aveline bickering loudly in the entrance hall. Shortly after, they left. Less than an hour later, Orana heard screaming. She looked out a window to see gangs of elves with red-painted faces and Qunari attacking the residences of Hightown. Soon, she heard a thudding on their own front door. She quickly grabbed her light scale-mail armor, her saber, and her dagger and went to the shaking door. She waited until another thud was about to land and pulled the door open. A giant Qunari fell into the manor when the expected resistance failed to materialize. Orana winced as her saber bit into his flesh. She had acted on instinct, beaten into her bones by hours spent in the gym. 

The next Qunari fell as easily as his comrade had. He roared and charged her, horns lowered. She stepped aside and cut his legs out from under him as he passed. A quickly drawn and cast throwing knife ended his life. The last two took her on more cautiously. One thrust his spear at the only to have the shaft caught in the prongs of her freshly drawn parrying dagger. She used the leverage from the dagger to power a kick into the giant's temple. If she had tried the maneuver on a human, elf, or dwarf, the blow would have been instantly fatal. As it was, the Qunari was only stunned. Orana retrieved the spear just in time to level the point at the final Qunari. His advance halted when he was confronted with his comrade's weapon. Orana thrust the spear towards her antagonist. The one handed blow had neither the strength nor the speed to kill but it served it's purpose. The Qunari stepped aside to avoid the blow and right into Orana's saber. The blade bit into his side, deep enough to rupture numerous vital organs. Without waiting for the newly killed Qunari to fall, she pivoted and brought her saber down on the just-recovering Qunari's head. His thick bone and horn which had protected him from her boot, gave before the keen-edged blade.

Orana regarded the blood which was staining the expensive Rivaini rug with disgust. She moaned inwardly as an idea which was too good to pass up struck her. She suppressed the urge to vomit as she dipped her fingers into it and began painting her own face like the other elves she had seen outside.

"Bodahn." she called. "I'm going to help as many people as I can. Don't open the door for anyone but me."

She ran out into the streets, picking off whatever individuals or small groups she could risk attacking. As she had hoped, the blood on her face kept the Qunari from attacking her until she drew her sword. She followed the flow of Qunari until she found where they had many of their captives penned. They were under heavy guard, too many for Orana to take alone. She looked around and saw a drainpipe. She scrambled up until she gained the rooftop. She looked down on the Qunari and unslung her backpack. She fumbled around until she found what she was looking for.

The small, metal spheres looked innocent enough but Orana had seen them used. They were packed with lyrium explosives which would shatter the metal casings into a thousand lethal shards when thrown. She removed the safety cap and pressed down on the rune which would begin detonation. She tossed the grenade perfectly. It detonated with a dull thump right in the thickest knot of Qunari. The rest scattered and, when nothing else happened, came closer to examine the bodies of their comrades... just as Orana had expected. Her second grenade killed or fatally injured the rest of the guards.

She scrambled down the drainpipe and finished off the Qunari that were still moving. The humans in the ersatz prison shrank back from her when they saw her painted face, pointed ears, and bloody sword. She cut through the rope tying the doors shut and told them to follow her. When they didn't move, she yelled at them to move if they wanted to live.

That got them moving. She escorted them to the Hawke Estate before dashing off into the night to find more captives. As the city's clocks were striking midnight, the Qunari, suddenly, melted away. Orana, who was preparing to assault a large group of Qunari heard a shrill whistle and, suddenly, found herself facing an empty square. She considered pursuing them but instead decided to return to the estate. The crowd of former prisoners had grown considerably when she returned. She heard the name "Hawke" whispered often as well as the word "Champion". Orana yelled that the streets were clear and it was safe to return home. A few seemed to hear her but no one left. She pushed through to the foot of the stairs to Evelyn's room. There, Avaline was keeping the crowd back. She nearly drew her sword when she saw Orana's painted face but recognized her just in time to prevent a panic.

"She's in her room. She's been asking after you." Avaline said.

Orana found Evelyn lying on her bed, being tended to by Anders. She had a number of deep cuts and her left cheekbone had clearly been broken. When she saw Orana's painted face and bloody sword and armor, she arched an eyebrow.

"Collect any heads?" she asked as the rest of her companions turned to see who had entered.

"A few but they frightened the guests so I threw them out." she replied.

"The guests being the mob of bedraggled lowlifes currently stomping around my house in their dirty boots?"

"Yes, those ones."

"Right, about them." Evelyn rose and crossed to the door. She stepped out to the overlook of the entry hall and shouted "Hey! You lot! I want to sleep! Fuck off, already!"

With that, the crowd began to disperse.


	5. Orana Hawke, Dragonslayer

"Orana, grab your gear. I want you to come with me today." Evelyn yelled.

Unhesitatingly, Orana retrieved her armor, sword, dagger, and the spear she had recently mastered.

"Where are we going?" she asked as Anders and Fenris met them at the door.

"The Bone Pits." Evelyn said. "Anders needs stuff for things."

When they arrived at the mine, they found the entire place on fire. The miners who hadn't fled were burning on the ground. Cautiously, they approached the dragonstone mine. They met nothing more dangerous than a few young drakes. All the while, Orana harbored doubts about their mission. As far as she knew, dragonstone had no particular use when it came to demonology. Her experience was that demons and spirits ignored dragonstone much like they ignored anything which wasn't alive or magical. However, Evelyn trusted Anders' expertise in the field and Orana trusted Evelyn's judgment.

When they had gathered what they needed, Evelyn said "let's not head back just yet. I want to look around, see if we can find out what happened here."

Instead of going straight, they turned left into the main pit of the mine. No sooner had they entered the mine when a giant dragon, fully 25 paces from nose- to tail-tip, dove in behind them. It ignited a pile of dry wood and coal which had been stacked there. The gout of flame which rose from the combustible material completely blocked their exit.

"Orana, run and hide!" Evelyn shouted as she drew her bow and began to fire at the gigantic beast.

Reflexively, Orana obeyed the command. She dashed for a stack of rocks and dove behind them. Unfortunately for her, she dove right into a writhing group of dragonlings. She rolled backwards and brought her spear to bear on the group. She was vaguely aware of the dragon taking off behind her and the pressure was soon taken off of her as Anders' spells and Evelyn's arrows began to rain down on the hatchlings.

"Damn it, Anders, help him." Evelyn yelled as a second group of dragonlings and a pair of drakes overwhelmed Fenris. 

Orana noticed a burst of flame from the high dragon just in time to dive out of the way. The blast had the fortunate side-effect of incinerating the remaining dragonlings. Evelyn turned to the other group just in time to drive the beasts away from Fenris allowing Anders to lay on magic fueled hands. As the last dragonling fell, one of Evelyn's special black-shafted, red-flighted arrows buried in its neck, the high dragon returned, knocking Evelyn to the ground and pinning her beneath a massive claw.

Evelyn struggled against the limb, drawing her dagger and driving it again and again into the tree trunk-thick limb. The dragon roared in pain and placed even more weight on the creature trapped at it's mercy.

Evelyn, because she was just that kind of person, roared right back, defiant, in the face of the giant beast. The dragon glare at her and raised it's head. Orana saw the fire rising deep in it's throat. She looked at the spear in her hand and her world narrowed to the dragon, Evelyn, and the glittering tip of her spear. She ran straight at the dragon, her target illuminated by a hellish crimson light. 

The dragon, used to even the largest creatures cowering at the mere sound of its wings was shocked to see a tiny little two-legged thing running _at_ her. She disregarded it, she would deal with it after the impertinent creature beneath it's claw was dead. Needless to say, the dragon was more than a little surprised when it's own blood drowned out the flame which had barely emerged from it's mouth. It shrieked in pain and rose up on its hind legs as the barbed tip of the spear gouged deep lacerations in it's throat. It fell on it's back and thrashed, trying to dislodge the razor sharp spearhead. Eventually, the flow of blood stopped and the dragon lay still. 

Evelyn picked herself up, slowly. She crossed over to where Orana had fallen, knocked back by the dragon's thrashing. She offered the elf a hand. Orana tried to clasp the hand but her own hands refused to respond. Evelyn recoiled when she say the elf-maid's palms. Her hands and forearms had been charred by the dragon's fire.

"Orana!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright!?"

"Yes." Orana said. Then she took not of her own arms. A wave of nausea overtook her. "I... I don't feel anything." she said, confused.

"That's not good" Anders said "If burns don't hurt, it means the nerves have been damaged. Here, let me have a look."

* * * *

Orana spent the next few weeks having Anders and Evelyn lavish all their considerable skill as healers on her arms. The rest of Evelyn's companions often joined her, as well. Fenris sat by her bed side and they took it in turns reading from Orana's favorite books; Merril told her stories about the Dalish and drew her crude charcoal drawings of rainbows and butterflies; Isabela spent a long time asking about her life because, Orana assumed, when Isabela finally gave in to her feelings for Evelyn, she would become Isabela's adopted daughter as well as Evelyn's; Varric told her stories about a hero of legend named Oriana Eagle, the dragon-slayer which, Varric assured her, were as popular as beer everywhere in Thedas except, conveniently, for all the places she had spent any amount of time; and, once, Bethany came to visit. She was escorted by a pair of templars. She exchanged concerned sounding words with Evelyn and the two of them left, accompanied by Varric and Aveline. That evening, Evelyn returned with a truly magnificent bow. It had clockwork-looking mechanisms on the end of each limb which, Orana would later learn, gave the bow far more power than it's apparent draw weight would suggest. In addition, the bow thrummed with barely-contained magical energy. Bethany and Orana exchanged a few pleasantries but, when Sebastian entered the sickroom, Bethany blushed crimson and made a hasty excuse to leave.

Evelyn descended into a withdrawn and subdued mood for the rest of the night. Later, when she rose to get a drink, Orana swore she overhead Evelyn speaking but, when she looked into the main hall, she was sitting, alone, her blue eyes reflecting dying flames.

Eventually, the bandages finally came off for the final time. Orana's forearms would forever bear the blotchy scars of the dragon-fire but, thanks to the unparallelled skill of the healers who had attended her, she would not face any detriment to her physical ability.


	6. The Hawk's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, I'm seriously breaking with canon here. If that bothers you, run.

"You're sending me away?" Orana asked in stunned disbelief.

"I'm trusting you with an extremely important responsibility." Evelyn replied.

Orana was just beginning to readjust to business as usual when Evelyn had asked to speak to her in her study. In Lothering, Evelyn's talent for being able to rub two sovereigns together to make three had never been fully realized. In the six years since she had returned from the Deep Roads, her fortune had become so vast that few could comprehend the sum. She wasn't exactly the wealthiest person to have ever lives but since she managed to undercut both the Teventer and Rivaini merchants who imported priceless tea and spices from Seheron; forge incredably lucrative trade agreements with the dwarven crafters of Orzamaar, Kal'Hirol, and Kal-Sharok; dominate the trade of enchanted items from the members of the Mages' Collective and several of the more amenable Circles of Magi; and had invested heavily in the many businesses which had quickly sprouted from the ashes of Denerim and Amaranthine; she was certainly rapidly approaching that mark. Her trading fleet, had she desired to arm it, would have rivaled the Felecima Armada in numbers, if not skill. In addition, she closely fostered relations with Iris Cousland Therin and her husband, High King Alistair Therin. Their close ties with the leaders of the Chasind raiders who had integrated into Ferelden as extremely capable soldiers and sailors insured that the flow of gold into Ferelden, and into Evelyn's pockets wouldn't be threatened by anyone in the near future.

The trick, Evelyn had told Orana, was to never let gold collect dust. In addition to her other buisness ventures, Evelyn kept in close contact with smugglers, spies, thieves, and wet-workers who had an eye for stealing from or arranging accidents for extremely wealthy individuals who hadn't come by a red cent of their gold honestly. They had been giving the Coterie headaches for years without them once suspecting that the spider was sitting right on their front doorstep. After the unsavory individuals were thoroughly dead or financially ruined, Evelyn, working through a network of agents, pounced and replaced them with far more ethical criminal scum. By these practices, she had, at a stroke, prevented several bloody and useless wars, smuggled many apostates out of the more abusive Circles of Magi, nearly destroyed the slave trade outside Tevinter, and become even more fantastically wealthy.

When she wasn't engaged in that kind of business, Evelyn moved her gold through what she referred to as "her philanthropic ventures". By this, she meant outfitting the Ferelden military in finest steel; providing food, medicine, and weapons to half the Fog Warriors on Seheron; rebuilding and refurbishing the Grey Warden strongholds in Ferelden and across Thedas; donating staggering sums to the Chantry's humanitarian aid programs; and funding numerous other ventures which weren't strictly profitable but which were "getting me in good with the Maker", Evelyn said.

One of her more extravagant expenditures was when she purchased the Chateau Haine and the surrounding lands from Cyril de Montfort who had inherited his fathers estates and, with them, his not insignificant debts. Evelyn purchased the debts and offered to annul them in return for the keys to the chateau. Cyrol, ecstatic to be rid of the debt, and unaware of Evelyn's hand in his father's debt, had handed her, not only the keys to the manor but also the contracts for all the various servants and groundskeepers. The Chateau, or the Hawk's Nest, as Evelyn had rechristened it, had spent the last few years being completely overhauled and examined for any scrap of useful information about the movements of the Orlesian armies. Now, the refit was complete. All told, it had taken a sizable chunk out of even Evelyn's fortunes. She had restored the caves beneath the chateau to their former glory as an impenetrable and almost completely self-sufficient bunker which could house a small city. She was using the manor as a clearing house for her more dubious ventures. Though she was living in Kirkwall, the center of her web of gold, legitimate, illegitimate, and "philanthropic" was at the Hawk's Nest.

Now, Evelyn had asked Orana to go there to "oversee the estate". Orana knew it was, indeed important work and a great responsibility but she still didn't like it.

"Orana, please. You have to trust me. This is where I need you. It's time for you to leave the nest and learn to fly. You understand?"

"I... I understand." Orana said, her forest green eyes locking onto Evelyn's cobalt blue ones.

"Good." Evelyn said, crossing to a crate in the corner. "In that case, I have a parting gift for you."

She opened the crate and motioned Orana over. Inside the crate was a beautiful set of armor. It was dappled stony green, grey, and brown. When she donned it, Orana knew all she would need to do was stay mostly still in a shadow and she would melt into it. She lifted the armor and was surprised by how light it was. It was then that she realized. The armor was crafted from the hide of the dragon she had killed at the Bone Pits. In the bottom of the crate was a magnificent spear. It was a solid piece, not metal and wood like the one which she had lodged in the dragons throat. It was a black metal which she didn't recognize and which seemed to drink in the light of the room. All up and down the shaft were lines of red light which formed intricate patterns down the shaft and blade of the 5 foot weapon.

"Sweet mother, are you bribing me not to complain about this assignment?" Orana asked, marveling as the magnificent weapon

"What? Bribing you? Of course not! Perish the thought! Is it working?"

"Perhaps..."

"Orana, listen. You know things are getting dangerous in Kirkwall. The Knight-Commander's completely snapped. I'm making arrangements but unless things come off just so, I'm afraid she might be replaced by someone just as bad if not worse. I shudder to think what might happen if she starts something before my plans are in place. If things don't work out, I'll need to be sure that everything is in place to control the damage and for that, I need you at the Nest. Please, trust me. This is where I need you."

Orana nodded. "I understand, really."

Orana quickly packed a footlocker and loaded it into the carriage which was waiting for her outside of the manor and then climbed in, herself.

Looking out the back, she saw Anders approaching Evelyn. When she saw him, a look of anger crossed her face.

"I told you, I want nothing more to do with your insane plans." Orana heard Evelyn say before the carriage rounded a corner and all noise was swallowed.

* * * *

The trip passed uneventfully and, eventually, the Hawk's Nest came into view. Instead of the blocky structure she had heard described, the chateau had been completely remodeled with graceful spires and soaring arches. It slightly resembled Fort Drakon, giving an air of both elegance and unassailable strength. She noted the men in the dappled uniform of the Ferelden New Model Army patrolling the walls. When the carriage approached the gate, they were challenged by a squad of hardened veterans with the troops on the wall drawing their bows to offer additional support if it was needed.

Orana simply handed them the message from Evelyn. The squad leader examined the seal and the note's contents. The man took long enough that Orana believed he was actually reading the note and not faking. She had heard Evelyn sing the virtues of the education system the queen of Ferelden had instituted where any human farm boy, slum-born elf, or exiled dwarf who aspired to be more could attend school if he so desired. Now, to see a lowly sergeant clearly reading a note impressed Orana to no end.

The sergeant nodded when he had finished and motioned to the gatehouse. The gates opened and the soldiers returned to their posts.

On the other side, Orana was greeted by a lovely white marble courtyard. She stood, open mouthed, staring at the impressive structures around her. From outside the gate, she couldn't have seen the delicate ornamentation which adorned the outside of the building. 

Apparently, she stood too long as a fat, human woman came up to her and yelled "Mistress Hawke's daughter will be arriving any second and you're standing here gawking. Get to your chores or I'll have your hide."

Orana, taken aback, didn't respond for a few seconds. She was rescued when another elf, this one in dappled uniform with Dailish tattoos and a silver oak leaf on her lapels approached her and saluted, sharply.

"Madame Hawke. I am Lieutenant Colonel Gwenvere Litwyn. If you come with me, I can show you to you quarters." She gestured to the two men at her side and they lifted Orana's footlocker out of the carriage.

As she followed the Colonel, Orana shot one last look over her shoulder. She was slightly satisfied to see a look of slack-jawed amazement on the human's face, this time.

"I'm going to be your official point of contact for any matters which require the intervention of the Ferelden Crown. I know a lot of... shall we say dubious business is done here but if you need something done right, you can't trust it to criminal scum. Best you deploy my Rangers if you need anything more delicate than a slash and burn done."

"Thank you, Colonel. I'll not hesitate to call on you if you're needed. If I may ask, how did you come to be in the Ferelden military? Unless I'm much mistaken, those are Dailish tattoos."

The elf laughed and said "after the blight, the Dalish had a homeland but not much else. A while back, my people clashed hard with a group of humans. Blood was wrongfully shed on both sides. After that, we realized that we needed a more formal agreement with Ferelden if we were going to be able to cooperate in the long term. Part of that was a military exchange. The Dalish taught our tactics to shemlen and the flat ears and in return we were taught the teamwork and discipline which overcame us in the Exalted Marches. The Rangers are the Dalish, Shemlen, and Flat Ears who were best able to cooperate with the others and who could meet the greatest physical and mental demands the training officers could think of. The Ferelden Navy has their Marines and the Chasind have their berserkers but against all foes, the Rangers lead the way. Trust me, the Queen doesn't much care for that. The Marines were her pet project when she was just a Teyrna-in-waiting. They've benefited greatly from our cross-training too but, still, they're no Rangers."

The Colonel seemed to be able to talk forever on the niceties of the Ferelden New Model Military. It did make Orana confident that Ferelden could weather all but a coordinated attack from the rest of Thedas all at once but, by the time they reached her quarters, the tips of her ears were starting to go numb from the incessant talking.

* * * *

After a few weeks of managing the affairs, sordid and otherwise, of the estate, Orana received a message with Evelyn's seal. It was short and right to the point, without Evelyn's usual digressions or allusions.

"Orana,

Things went wrong. I had to kill the Kinght-Commander too early. Anders is dead. The rest of us are coming to the Nest. We have a lot of scared and injured apostates with us who need shelter and transport to Ferelden. A storm is coming. Brace yourself.

Love,

Your mother, Evelyn Hawke."

Orana swallowed in apprehension. Gone wrong could mean a lot. It could mean that there would be a little trouble in Kirkwall for a few months or it could bean that Thedas was about to come apart at the seams.

"Ahem." Colonel Litwyn cleared her throat.

 

"Ma'am. I just received a message. My Rangers and I are being redeployed. Apparently their Majesties have it in their heads to take the Ferelden Circle and roust the Templars, by force if need be. You'll still have a garrison of regs, just don't try anything too fancy with them."

"Understood, Colonel. You're dismissed." Orana said.


	7. Epilogue: Several Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All done. Here's hoping that Inquisitor doesn't clash too hard with my headcanon. Let me know what you thought in comments or PM's if AO3 has those. Also, in case it's not clear, my headcanon has a non-Warden Cousland sharing the throne with Alistair while a Warden Surana killed the Archdemon.

Orana regarded the message in her hand. She had been told to take it to Varric. She hadn't taken a message to Varric in months, not since he'd joined up with the Seekers and the Inquisitor. She had taken many to Fenris and his Fog Warriors on Seheron; to Merril who was helping to uncover potentially useful Dailish artifacts at sites all across Ferelden; to Bethany and Sebastian Vael who were two years married and determined to reclaim Starkhaven from the increasingly unstable cousin of Sebastian who ruled there now; to a brusque, platinum-haired elf mage who spent her days in a laboratory on an island off Ferelden's eastern coast and who Orana suspected to be the Hero of Ferelden, though when last she went there, she found the place in disarray and the elf gone without a trace; and to Avaline Vallen who had been placed in command of a patchwork unit of apostates, Chasind, former Templars, Ferelden regulars, and Dalish elves who, under her leadership had become one of the most combat effective units in whatever border clashes they were called on to fight in. Varric, though. He had heard little from Evelyn. The only member of Evelyn's inner circle who had received fewer messages was Isabela which, given that she slept in Evelyn's bed most nights since she had returned from Ath Velanis, would be rather superfluous. Orana hoped and thought the message was a promise of support for the Inquisitor, who she had been watching with interest and approval but she couldn't be sure. 

She had followed Varric to a tavern in Orlais where she had donned one of her generic servant disguises.

* * * *

Varric was bent over a map in a dingy Orlesian tavern plotting with the Inquisitor over how to gain the cooperation of a rowdy but talented band of mercenaries who had been harassing the town they were in when an elven servant approached him.

"Excuse me." she said in the Kings Tongue, barely understandable through a thick Orlesian accent. "I believe this is yours. It fell out of your pocket just now."

In the moment it took Varric to recognize the face, the elf was gone. He grinned as her broke the red wax seal on the note which bore the Amell crest with a silhouette of an attacking hawk superimposed on it.

"Inquisitor," he said "I think we just caught a lucky break."


End file.
